


Bury Me In Smoke

by takemetoiowa



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Love Letters, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but that's alright, can be triggering, corey might be too sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:34:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22770526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetoiowa/pseuds/takemetoiowa
Summary: Jim's having a hard time forgetting the past in the months leading up to his wedding, and the healing process has been reversed.So Corey suggests writing a letter to Paul, to formally say the goodbye he never got to have.
Relationships: Jim Root/Corey Taylor, Paul Gray/Jim Root
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Bury Me In Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> hey there ladies and gentlemen, i'm just in a jim/paul pit lately n this is what came out of it so enjoy

There was a weird silence to the room as Jim sat down at the kitchen table. No more silent than it usually was, but in times like these were he was desperately searching for noise to draw his attention to, the only thing he could find was the soft dripping from the tap he’d left running. It was driving him up a wall, even more so than the squeaking of the chair against the floor as he shuffled forward to get comfortable.

That wasn’t what this was about, though. Now wasn’t a time to get pre-occupied with frustrations.

Jim could feel Corey behind him for a second; he saw his shadow on the table and it didn’t throw him off, just made him feel a little strange. Brushing back a stray strand of hair from his face, the guitarist remembered telling Corey he wanted to be alone to write this letter, but as he picked up that pen and stared down at the blank sheet of paper, it suddenly felt daunting to fill that white space with so many different emotions. Some emotions that he’d repressed for years, never even spoken about with his therapist. It was like Corey could sense it, just by the way his muscles tensed up, and he brought a hand down to rub his shoulder gently. They both turned, and there was a brief moment of eye contact.

“I know this is hard for you,” The vocalist started. “And I’m absolutely not gonna force you to sit here until you’re done like I want to. Because I know this is important, but you’ve got to take things at your own pace.”

Another moment of silence. Jim hated that fucking silence, so he cleared his throat, and dropped his gaze from Corey’s knowing blue eyes down to the kitchen floor. It was too much to think that he might look back up and see pity. Pity was the last thing he wanted: it always made him feel so guilty, because in the long run, he knew he was the lucky one. Jim was alive, engaged, had a successful career doing what he loved, and Paul was dead.

He’d healed enough to be able to say the words by this point, and accept that he wasn’t coming back. It had taken ten years of non-stop work to get there, though.

“It’s so frustrating, I know exactly what I want to say, and my hand’s itching to start writing. It’s just that when I touch the paper…”

Jim punctuated his sentence by touching the pen to paper like he’d just said, and as he expected, he totally blanked again.

“... Nothing wants to come out. You know what I mean? It’s…”

Corey could feel Jim getting more frustrated with himself the longer he went on, especially when the pen landed back on the table with a clatter, and Jim knew it, he just couldn’t help it. All these feelings from the past decade should have been easy to spill out all over the place after being kept in for so long, but apparently, he wasn’t so good at doing it in a controlled, healthy way. His partner’s kindness was even more infuriating, because Corey was being so patient with him even when he was being a totally difficult dickhead to be completely honest. Part of him wanted the man to be mad at him so he didn’t have to feel so bad for always making people work around him, but of course, Corey just gave him that same little smile he always gave him when his patience was wearing thin but he didn’t want to show it.

“Like I said, Jimmy, I know it’s not going to be easy for you. You’re more likely to feel happy with the outcome if you let it come naturally. This is about letting go for real, it doesn’t have to be such a tedious labour of love. Paul knew you loved him.”

During those last few words, Corey’s voice had softened and he brought his gaze back to Jim, giving his shoulder another gentle rub. Thankfully, though, there wasn’t any pity in his eyes. It was more of a look of mutual sadness, which hurt Jim, because as much as he hated not being right for once he knew Corey was the one in the right this time, and the thought of letting go stiffened him again. Why was it him who just couldn’t fucking let go? 

He clenched his fists out of frustration, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the upset in Corey’s eyes, because it just would have made him cry. That would be fatal when there were already tears forming in his eyes, and he hadn’t even written the first word yet. Jim was getting so het up with himself that he hadn’t even really allowed himself to begin to think about Paul properly yet, and as he flexed his fingers to try and calm himself just a little, Corey wrapped an arm around his shoulders and slid into the chair next to him. The quiet screech of the chair as he tucked himself in toward the table made Jim wince, even just slightly. It felt overpowering right now.

“I can’t say I know what it’s like to lose someone so close to you, Jim, but Paul and I were brothers. All of the nine had a special connection, and that’s not lost to this day, either. Of course shit was gonna change when he died. But the only thing we can do is honour him, and move on with our lives, because he would blow his fucking top if he knew we were sitting around moping about him right now. You know he’d kick your ass for crying about him.”

As much as Jim felt like he was seconds away from falling into a deep pit, him and Corey both broke out in very teary-eyed chuckling, because they knew it was true. Paul would be mad if the two of them were still upset over him after all this time, but Jim especially was finding it so difficult to think about that sort of thing when the only thing on his mind was how off almost everything had felt for the past decade. He leaned into Corey’s side a little, wiping his eyes of those tears and feeling slightly comforted by the presence of his arm around him. He was so grateful for Corey in times like these, but at the same time, it escaped him how he was so patient with him when he had such a lack of patience in almost everything else. Jim made a mental note to ask him one day, just not right now.

Now was not the time to bother with the routine of asking why Corey loved him or why he would want to live with someone so self-destructive, let alone marry him. 

It wasn’t even the time for getting sad over missed I-love-you’s, missed opportunities, a missed future.

This letter was about acceptance, and letting go, because nobody would ever read it but Jim himself. It was about this being goodbye, and sending Paul off the only way he knew how.

“I think I want to be alone right now. I want to get this thing over and done with, so we can get on to the designers about these suits.”

Corey seemed rather hesitant to leave the room, and Jim was too scared to meet his eyes, in case this time there was genuine pity there, which would probably break him. But Corey’s hand was on his jaw, ever-so-gently turning his head so he could look at him properly, because sometimes it felt like there was a brick wall between them when Jim just wouldn’t look him in the eyes. They were getting better at communicating past that, or at least they hoped, as Corey leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t a comfort thing, either. Mostly because he knew Jim would reject that.

Pulling back, Corey didn’t let go of the guitarist’s jaw, keeping their eyes locked so he could be genuine with him. He saw the tears, and it hurt.

“Promise me that if you need me, you’ll shout for me and I can come running. You have to promise me. I don’t want you to drift off to Neverland when we have suits to be designing and invitations to be making.”

Jim found that this time Corey’s soft smile didn’t feel patronizing, or frustrate him, because he knew he wasn’t being a bother as much as his brain wanted to tell him that. Corey was the type of person if you were genuinely bothering, you would know. You really would know. That thought brought a smile to his face, and as his partner stood up to leave the room, he tapped his fingers against the table more absent-mindedly. Rather than the discomfort of earlier, Jim felt okay going into this one, felt like he could start writing and come out okay on the other side.

“Do I look young enough to go to Neverland, Corey? Be honest with yourself on that one. Honest with me too.”

Yeah. As that soft, excitable-puppy grin spread across Corey’s face, Jim knew deep down he’d be fine. That letting go of the past wouldn’t be nearly as hard as he thought.

“You don’t look a day over thirty. I’m being straight with you on this one, too. Don’t you forget that!”

Corey’s voice seemed to echo in his head for a little while as the padding of his socks against the floor got quieter, and Jim could feel a lot of those repressed feelings coming flooding back for round two, but weirdly enough it didn’t feel as bad this time. Things would be okay, he told himself, even though the tears were already coming back to his eyes as he made himself pick up that pen. 

Of course there was a bit of guilt there, as he took a deep breath in and started writing down those first few sentences, because Jim couldn’t help but think it was wrong to remember Paul so lovingly after being engaged to Corey and being genuinely happy with him. Guilt was normal after losing someone, he told himself again. Weirdly enough, though, it wasn’t nearly as guilty as he’d felt all those years ago when he decided to take the plunge and ask the vocalist out. Things had flipped. Once he felt guilty for abandoning Paul and moving on for his life, but now, he felt bad for leaving Corey in the dust and never being able to truly let go of the life he had always thought he’d have.

No, this life was here, and now. This was the life he had. 

He knew Paul would be okay with it, because he was starting to be happy again. Had been happy for so long, now. This was that final step. 

Closing that letter would feel like sealing a part of him off forever, but it was for the best. No more sleepless nights, being scared of seeing Paul in his dreams, none of it. Today was the decider that meant he’d finally remember him for his smile. And Jim was so thankful for it.

_ Paulie, _

_ It's already been ten years since you died. _

_ You were the light of my life. I find it so damn cruel the universe would try and extinguish that light for me, the only goddamn light I actually had. But I’ve found new lights, promise. _

_ Maybe writing this letter to you, when you're not even here to read it, is a clear sign that I'm really not over it and I haven't even started to get over it. Yet, when it actually happened, back then, I didn't think I'd ever start to get over it. Ever. Look at where I am now, I guess. Things have gotten better. Way better, actually. _

_ Every now and then, especially when I water the plants we'd kept since long before you died, I do think about where I'd be if you were still here. Which my therapist told me was normal, and perfectly healthy, but I still don't feel like it's healthy, because it makes me wish for things I know I'll never have. I still wish I could have your arms around me at night. I wish we could've had one last game of Modern Warfare with eachother, and I'd gotten to see that overexciteable, childish smile on your face. Most of the time, nowadays, thoughts like those make me happy, because /you/ made me happy. I've been trying to turn those longing thoughts into just... Remembering you as you were, and being happy you gave me those memories. It does still make me sad though, sometimes, to know I won't ever get to run thumb over your lip, and catch your piercings, and feel the smile break out on your face before I saw it. Little things. _

_ I did think I'd miss the big things, like people always seem to say I would, but I was never really bothered by the loneliness. I had the nine. Well. Eight. It was just the knowledge that nobody again would ever quite be able to give me the little things that you did, no matter what nature they were in. Nobody will ever touch me like you did, love me the way you did, take such good care of me the way you did. That's the part I hated. And again, even though my therapist tells me it's perfectly normal, I feel like I'm betraying Corey by thinking all this stuff to myself. _

_ I felt like I was betraying you when I asked Corey out on that first date, like I was pretending you and I were never a thing. It really ate away at me for the longest time, and it was infuriating, depressing, dark — but he was so awfully sweet to me. That entire time I was struggling awfully, trying to grieve you in the only way I knew how, never once did he get mad or snap at me. Not when I hadn't showered in days, too far down in a pit to drag myself out of bed in the morning, and not when I spent hours at a time locked in the bathroom when I eventually dragged myself to said shower, crying over you and how much I wanted that ache in my chest to go away. Corey was patient with me, and then, I needed patience. He was hurting too, and somehow managed to drag us both out of that depression pit. I'd fallen for him in that time, but I was too stubborn to admit it. I had told myself for weeks, months, almost a year, even, that I could never replace you. _

_ When I did tell my therapist how I felt about asking Corey out on a date, she told me that this wasn't about replacing you, because people can't be replaced. When you break up with somebody, you're not replacing them with someone new, you're just sharing a new experience with somebody, with the same label, whether the love is more or less than the last time. And while I thought that was bullshit, I understood it. Corey wasn't your replacement — he's just my current partner, and as much as I sometimes wish it wasn't, you were a partner in the past. You were my first love, and it was intense. Corey and I have a different type of love. _

_ In fact, Corey is the reason I'm writing this to you. Not just because without him I probably wouldn't be alive today, but because we're getting married on the 25th of June this year. I'm nervous, sure, because I never thought I was built for marriage and Corey's discussing all sorts of things with me, like pets, children, you know. Family stuff. Stuff I'm trying to figure out if I'm ready for. I guess I won't know unless I dive in headfirst. And he's already got a kid, Griffin, who I’m sure you met when you were here. Griffin misses you too, bud. _

_ Corey is absolutely over the moon, and if I'm being honest, so am I. It's been hard to focus in the last few weeks, because I've been staring at the ring on my hand and just admiring it, but also because... I've been remembering you a lot.  _

_ I wondered if you'd be mad that I was getting married, upset, disappointed, anything. Whenever I thought about marriage ten years ago, the only thing that popped into my head was this image of the two of us living on that rescue farm we always talked about having in Iowa somewhere together, growing old together and having a nice place to return home to after a tour. It's one that always makes me tear up when I think about it, and I'm even starting to tear up now, but with a smile on my face, because I know you wouldn't want me to be sad. I promise I'm saving a seat for you at our wedding, even though I know you won't come, because if you were still alive I'd want you to be here for it. As ironic as that sounds. _

_ This was supposed to be me saying goodbye to you, Paulie, but look where I've ended up. Rambling on for fucking aaaaages. You'd always click your fingers when I went on rambling, and I'd stop, always confused, and you'd kiss me and pull back to look me in the eyes. You would always say the same thing to me. “Earth to Jim. You're running out of breath and I'm running out of patience.” _

_ Something along those lines, anyway. Corey does the same to me, sometimes, when I'm up late at night worrying. Kisses the end of my nose, and he calls me the sweetest things that make me blush just thinking about it. But you already know my tendency to blush. _

_ I have to round this off, god damn it, but I don't want to do it in a really depressing, stupid way. Here's to the two years we spent together, anyway, Paul. Those two years will always be among the greatest in my life, and the years before we got together that I was blessed enough to know you were right up there too. I can't promise never to forget you, because I'll feel bad if one day I wake up and I forget your face when I promised you I'd never let you go. But before this turns into another long ramble, just know that I love you. So much. And I always will. _

_ Don't make me wait too long for an answer, Paul. _

_ Love and kisses, _

_ Jim. _


End file.
